Breathe Me to Life
by Charlotte NiQueen
Summary: "What did they do to me?" "They kidnapped you. Took you hostage. You're not the first, and, I imagine, not the last." "What do they want with me?" "They want you to fix me." "And if I don't?" "You die." Ella Barton, sister of Clint Barton, is kidnapped by HYDRA and forced to fix the Winter Soldier. Alone and held hostage, she has two choices: fix him, or never be seen again.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**IMPORTANT NOTE: So if any of you started to read the story I posted a long while ago, ****_Mirage_****, I want to let you know that that story has been replaced by this one. *throws hands in the air* Wait, wait! Let me explain before you kill me! The story ****_Mirage_**** had a very confusing plot that ended up contradicting itself. The story wasn't going to work, so I decided to delete it and start fresh. Clarcy Barton will remain in this story, except she is named Ella instead. She is still the younger sister of Clint Barton, though, and this story will be much shorter than ****_Dancing In the Darkness._**** Anyway, onto the story!**

**Ella:**

Lesson of the day: idiots will be idiots. They're stupid, don't like to completely think things through, and are always trying to be the hero. They don't listen, they do what they want, and ten times out of ten, it gets them killed. Or, in this case, extremely injured.

"Dammit, Ella!" Clint said, flinching away from me as I attempted to pull a bullet from his shoulder. It was deeply embedded, and would only cause more damage if it wasn't removed. "Stop, it will you? That burns!"

"Well, maybe if you had been more careful, like I told you to be, this wouldn't have happened," I said, directing the long tweezers back towards his shoulder. "Now hold still, and stop fidgeting. You're only gonna make it worse if you keep squirming like that."

"_I'm _gonna make it worse?" Clint said, trying to maneuver his shoulder away from me. "_You're_ gonna make it worse, coming at me like that with those things. Trying to rip my entire shoulder off, are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "I swear to you, Clinton," I said, my voice showing how highly irritated I was. "If you don't shut your trap, I'll rip off your whole damn_ arm_ with these things." I snapped the tweezers together menacingly for emphasis. "Now hold still before I call Fury in here."

Well, that was a threat that worked. Granted, he still had a pout on his face, but he kept his arm still as I tried to locate the bullet. "How did you manage this, anyhow?" I asked, my eyes glued onto his bloody wound. It wasn't the worst injury he'd ever received, but it wasn't very pretty, either.

"Sniper," he said, and winced inwardly as I began to dislodge the bullet from his muscle. "Pretty bad one, too. I think he was aiming for my head. Sucks for him."

"Well, you should send him some flowers then," I said, pulling the bullet from his flesh. He winced in response. "You lucked out, kid. An inch to the right and he would've broken an artery, and you would've lost an arm."

"Lovely," Clint said dryly as I plopped the bullet onto the metal table next to me, fishing some bandages from the drawer. "What are you still doing here anyways?" he asked. "I thought your shift was done at nine."

"It was," I said, pulling the bandages and gauze from the drawer. "I had to file a bit of paperwork, which didn't take too long, but then I heard that you—you stupid idiot—were shot. I figured I might as well stay until you got here so I could make sure you were alright."

I unwound some of the gauze, carefully twisting it around his shoulder to cover the wound. The absorbent material began to dot red with blood.

"Aww. And here I thought my baby sister didn't care about me," Clint said, his voice etched in mock appreciation. I sent him a glare.

"I'm nineteen, Clint," I said, taping the gauze into place. "I think I'm a little too old for you to still be calling me baby sister."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Please," he said. "Even when you're forty, I'll still call you baby sister."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. "What? Does it bother you?" Clint taunted. I chucked his shirt at him, turning my back to put my medical equipment back into the proper drawers.

"You know it does," I said. "That's why you haven't stopped doing it all these years."

That's right ladies and gentlemen, I was Clint Barton's little sister. Ten years younger, to be exact, but our age difference didn't really matter. He and I had always gotten along. Well, for the most part. Clint enjoyed humiliating and pulling pranks on me, most of which I would walk right into. He would shun me and push me down the stairs when we were little, and by some weird miracle, I still looked up to him. He was my role model. And only a few years after he joined S.H.I.E.L.D., so did I. I graduated high school early, and became a medical intern at S.H.I.E.L.D. only a year ago. I was still learning how to deal with some of the more brutal wounds, but I'd slowly built up the stomach for it and gotten the hang of things around here. I'd helped with some of the other agents, but most of the time, yours truly was patching up her idiot brother.

I turned back to Clint. "Now, I want you to put fresh bandages on that before you go to sleep, and do the same thing when you wake up again. I don't want you to have the same bloody bandages on you when you wake up," I said, giving him my best motherly look. "And I'll be here tomorrow, so I'll know if you do or not."

"What are you, our mother?" Clint asked. I could hear the annoyance in his tone as I turned to get my coat.

"No," I said, not missing a beat. "But I should be. You've always needed someone to look after you. That's why your partner is Natasha."

"I'm going to choose to ignore that," Clint said. He eyed my navy blue scarf as I tossed it over my shoulder. "You leaving now?"

"Yup," I said, popping the 'p,' as I snatched my bag up off the floor.

"You want me to walk you to your car?" he asked. I shook my head. Looking back, I should've accepted his offer.

"Nah. I knew I'd be working late tonight. I parked right by the building."

Clint nodded. "Alright," he said. "Well, see you tomorrow, little sis." I saw that familiar glint in his eye, and it tried to move out of his way. But, as usual, I wasn't quick enough. His arm locked around my shoulders and he pressed his other fist into my head, giving me a rough noogie. That was his way of showing me that no matter how old I got, no matter how grown-up I thought I was, he was always going to be bigger and stronger than me. He reminded me of this on an almost daily basis.

I squirmed in his tight grip until he finally released me. I glared at him. "You can't ever resist yourself, can you?" I said, trying to flatten out my strawberry blonde hair. Lord knows it probably looks like a bird's nest right now.

"Nope," he said, and I rolled my eyes. Children will be children, and Clint was still twelve at heart.

"Bye, Clint," I said, walking out the door before he could keep me there any longer.

The corridors of S.H.I.E.L.D., rather surprisingly, were bustling with activity, especially during the night hours. Agents exchanged information about their missions, nurses raced back and forth with different medicines, and occasionally you could find the occasional Avenger roaming around.

"Hey, Ella!" Natasha called. My eyes snapped to the redhead agent seated in one of the nurses' rooms. "Patch your brother up yet?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yup. Just got done with it, actually," I said. My dark eyes swept over her. Natasha herself was getting her own treatment for a rather deep-looking gash on her bicep. Anyone else would have been panicking over it, but not Natasha. She didn't even seem fazed by it. "He was being a baby about it," I told the agent. "But he should be good as new in a week or two."

"What got him?" Natasha said.

"He told me it was a sniper," I responded. "But you know how he is. For all we know, he could've accidentally shot himself."

Natasha laughed, a warm, hearty sound. Natasha, despite being ridiculously hardcore and tough as nails, was one of my best friends. I found myself laughing with her probably more than anybody else, and often at Clint's expense.

"I'd love to stay and chat," I said, and jerked my thumb towards the door. "But I've gotta run. Kibbles needs his dinner," I said, referring to the little kitten I'd just rescued from the pound no more than a month ago.

"Damn," Natasha muttered. "Either way, I'll see you tomorrow." She sent me off with a little wave, and the nurse tending to her arm began to scold her in harsh Russian.

I carried myself out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. building quickly and quietly after my encounter with Natasha. Honestly, the only thing on my mind then was to get home, cook some pasta, and curl up on the couch with Kibbles and watch some silly soap opera to unwind from today's stress. I didn't even consider the events that were going to take place next. It's so interesting how just ten seconds can change a person's entire life.

The cool air hit me as I walked out of the building. The wind was brisk with fall and the coming of winter. I smiled inwardly. It was my favorite time of the year. I saw my car parked in one of the very front rows, so close to the building that I could see the tiny prism that dangled from my rearview mirror the moment I walked out the door. I made a beeline for my little red car, pulling out my keys as I did so. I didn't even hear the man walk up behind me.

I gave a scream of shock as a firm hand sank into my shoulder, shoving me up against the side of my car. "Do you work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he growled. His words were gruff and demanding. A cool object pressed roughly against my throat. I realized it was a knife.

I gulped. _He was going to kill me._ "Yes," I gasped, my words all strung together. "I-I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. Please, don't kill me. Please! I-I'm just a nurse!"

Apparently, that was exactly the wrong thing to say. My attacker's eyebrow raised in interest. I began to speak faster. "Please," I went on, my voice shaky and gasping. "Wh-what is it you want? You can have my car, or my purse, or my phone. Any-Anything you want. Just please, don't hurt me…"

"Shut your trap," the man hissed, pressing the blade further into my throat. I yelped; I could feel it cutting into my skin. "You said you're a nurse?" he said thickly. "What's your name?"

"E-Ella," I choked out. "Ella Barton. Please don't kill me..."

The man chose to ignore my plea for life. Instead, an awfully wicked smile tore at his features. "Oh, you're more then just fine," he said, a sickening undertone to his voice. I had a feeling he was talking more to himself than to me. "You're _perfect_," he hissed. He raised his arm up, and brought his fist down on my head.

I blacked out.

**Ahhhh I'm so excited for this story! I might not update it as often as I want because I'm working on another story ****_Dancing In the Darkness_**** as well, but I'll try to update as often as I can! I hope y'all enjoyed it so far, and this one will mainly involve Bucky/Hydra, so for those of you who like that kind of stuff, stick around! I hope I did good, please follow/review/favorite! Until next time.**

**-Charlotte**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Ella:**

I didn't know how long I was out. I didn't know where I was, or even what the time was. I still didn't know who abducted me, and I didn't know if anyone was looking for me, or even noticed that I was gone. All I knew was that I was violently jolted awake.

I screamed out in pain as I was thrown violently onto a hard, gravelly floor. My scalp howled in pain; I realized I'd been thrown by my hair. I glanced up at the heavy metal door, opened to reveal a tall dark figure. It was the same man from before, my attacker, my abductor.

"What's going on?" I found myself saying. My voice was raspy and broken.

The man didn't answer me. Instead, he just stared down at me, eyes intrigued, an ominous smile etched onto his face. "Try not to piss him off," he said, his tone almost amused. "He angers easily." And that was all he spoke before the heavy metal door closed. I heard a heavy bolting sound follow. I realized that he'd locked it from the outside.

I immediately leapt to my feet, lunging at the door. I yanked on the handle with all the strength I had in my little body, desperate to get it open somehow. To say it didn't budge would be an understatement. The old door didn't so much as creak. I cursed myself for being short and fragile. Why couldn't I be tall and strong like Natasha and just kick it down?

_Dammit, Ella. You should've become an agent and not a nurse. Then you'd know what to do in situations like this._

I sighed, numb with defeat and pain. There was clearly no way of getting out of here. At least, not right now. Besides, even if I did escape, my kidnapper would probably just drag me back in here and lock me up all over again.

Or kill me.

I shuddered at the thought. None of this made sense. I was a nurse, for God's sake. I was probably the last person in all of S.H.I.E.L.D. anyone would even think about abducting. I was still an intern, for crying out loud! I wasn't even officially working for S.H.I.E.L.D. yet!

I ran a hand through my strawberry blonde hair, desperately trying to clear my thoughts and think straight, but my mind had been thrown into overdrive. Right now, nothing made sense. And what on earth did he mean, 'try not to piss him off?'

That was when every muscle in my body froze. Behind me, I heard the creaking of a mattress. Then it hit me. _I wasn't in this room alone_.

I turned around so fast, I should've had whiplash. I gasped softly. There, standing before me, was a man a good foot taller than my tiny five foot two frame. He had chiseled, rippling muscles that I could see even through the bagginess of his black shirt. His long, dark brown hair hung in a lanky, unkempt fashion around his face, his cerulean eyes surrounded by deep, smudged black. He was intimidating to say the least, but it wasn't until I caught sight of the gleaming metal arm that I knew who he was.

"You…" I murmured, almost gasping as I looked him up and down. "You're the Winter Soldier."

I expected him to frown, or snarl, or insist that that wasn't who he was, but he did none of those things. Instead he just stood there, motionless, those blue eyes simply staring at me.

While he was cool and unmoving, my mind was going into overdrive. I was taking all the pieces of the puzzle and putting them together. S.H.I.E.L.D., nursing, the Winter Soldier… The weight of my conclusion hit me like a tractor-trailer on a highway.

"Oh my God," I realized. "_I'm standing in the middle of a HYDRA base_."

I nearly toppled over. Thing like this didn't happen to people like me. Agents got kidnapped, not me. I didn't go out on missions, I didn't kill people, and the only real enemy I ever had was Jessica from sixth grade, who only hated me because I put gum in her hair. I didn't have any real reason for them to take me. I felt like my legs were going to give out from under me, and I latched onto the edge of the twin size bed to keep myself from falling over.

The Winter Soldier advanced towards me, probably trying to help me gain my balance, but I held up my hand. "Don't," I said. "I just need a minute."

I closed my eyes, shakily lowering myself onto the bed, complete with a curtain around it, giving the room a very hospital-like feel. I sucked in deep breaths of air as I ran my fingers through my hair slowly, then quickly again. I focused on my breathing, on the feeling of my chest rising and falling. My heart was beating rapidly against my ribs, and only began to slow when I finally got my head back again.

When I lifted my head from my hands, I was met by the Winter Soldier's blue eyes again. He was sitting on the bed opposite me, and was watching me intently, like a predator stalks its prey. You'd think he had never seen a woman before.

"What?" I asked softly, heeding my kidnapper's warning and deciding not wanting to anger this soldier. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I expected his eyes to dart away—any other man's would have—but they didn't. He was blank, deadpan, unreadable. Then his pale pink lips opened. "You're different than the others," he said. His voice was gruff and deep, but at the same time smooth as silk. His English was clear for the most part, but it was tinted with a hint of Russian.

I raised both eyebrows at his comment. "Others? What others?" I asked quietly, not sure I wanted to know the answer. "You mean, they took other people before me?"

The Winter Soldier nodded. "Two," he clarified as his eyes swept over me again. I realized he was sizing me up, trying to decipher whether I was a threat or not. "You're the third one in a month. The other two didn't last more than a week."

My head reeled. I felt color drain from my face. I suddenly felt very sick to my stomach. Things were becoming more and more clear by the second, as well as more and more dangerous. "What did they do to me?" I asked. Then I realized that wasn't the proper question. "What are they gonna do to me?"

The Winter Soldier's eyes locked with mine. I thought I saw sorrow in them for a moment—a deep sorrow, one that was too deep for me to even try to comprehend—but the it was gone. "They kidnapped you," he started. "Took you hostage. You're not the first, and, I imagine, not the last."

His words sent chills up my spine. "What do they want with me?" I asked.

His eyes grew dark. "They want you to fix me," he said. I fought the urge to gulp down my nerves as I noticed each of his muscles tense like an animal backed into a corner. These people terrified him.

"And if I don't?" I questioned. "What happens if I refuse? What happens if I try to escape rather than work for them?"

I didn't think it was a very sensitive question, but apparently I had struck a nerve. His gaze snapped from mine then, and he rose from the bed. He looked down at me, his eyes cold and unreadable once more. "Then you die," he said simply. "Or worse."

With that, he turned his back on me, pulling the curtains around his bed shut. A strong part of me wanted to ask more questions. I wanted to know what was worse than death. But I didn't say another word. The more dominant part just couldn't convince me to pull the curtain back and ask any more questions. So I just stared at the grimy curtain before me, and sunk back into the bed. I was trapped in a room with a cold-blooded killer and a twisted organization ready to kill me at the drop of a hat. I curled my legs into my chest, burying my head into my knees.

I'd never felt more alone in my life.

**Yay, more chapters! This one's kind of bad because it doesn't flow too well, but it's okay, because it'll get better, I promise! I hope y'all like Ella so far. I found that I was always writing characters that were like super strong and independent, so I wanted to write one that was like ultra-feminine and was more of a family kind of person. Don't worry, it won't mean she won't get fiery sometimes, but overall Ella's supposed to be like sweet and charming, like her brother! I hope y'all like her so far:) Anyways, thank you to all those who favorite/follow/review, it means so much to me, so please keep them coming because every single one makes me more motivated to keep writing!:) Thanks for reading, love you all! Until next time.**

**-Charlotte**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Bucky:**

I was sleeping when it happened. Well, sort of. People like me don't exactly get to sleep anymore. Sleeping is for those who can shut out the rest of the world and fall into a dreamy state for hours on end. I don't get the pleasure of doing that anymore. Honestly, I don't think I can remember ever falling into a deep sleep, and I don't think I will ever again. I don't sleep; I rest. Yeah, rest. That's only because there's a part of me that's always awake, ready for one of those HYDRA agents to come in and start a new round of torture.

But this time, when they threw that heavy metal door open, it wasn't for me.

The door opened so violently that I was surprised it wasn't thrown off the hinges. I heard a distinctive scream, then a thud on the ground. It wasn't a heavy thud, but instead much lighter. I knew it couldn't be one of the HYDRA agents. I sat upright in my bed, my eyes focused on the door. It was Agent Rumlow, not at all worried about me, but more about what he had just tossed into my room.

"What's going on?" I heard a croaky voice ask. I followed Rumlow's gaze to the floor, where nearly all the breath was stolen from my chest. _No, not another one_. It was a girl, no doubt one that they had abducted. That made three just in this month.

Rumlow chose not to answer her question. He just looked at her through hooded eyes, full of lust and wicked amusement. It made me sick. A sinister smirk graced his features. "Try not to piss him off," was all that he said, and I could tell he was fighting the urge to chuckle to himself. "He angers easily."

I knew his intent was to make a fire of anger stir inside me, but it was always the opposite. Over my years at HYDRA, I'd grown tired of being a fireball. From what I've learned, it's better to sit there and take your torture. The less you scream, the sooner they stop.

Without another word, Rumlow slammed the door shut, bolting it into place from the outside. Not even a second later, the girl leapt to her feet. Her tiny hands wrapped around the steel door handle, and she grunted and pulled in a desperate effort to open it. I considered telling her that it was no use, but decided against it. I didn't want to waste the energy. She'd eventually learn that the only way she's getting out of this room is if they kill you.

She tugged at the door only for a half a minute. Then, with one last frustrated grunt, the girl stopped yanking at the door and sighed deeply. She caught on fast. The other two girls screamed and kicked and cried for at least fifteen minutes before they finally got it through their heads. This one seemed to be quicker than the others. Maybe she'd survive longer.

I rose from the bed slowly, and the mattress squealed in response. She might have wit on her side, but this girl startled easily. She whirled around so quickly I was surprised she didn't hurt herself.

That was when I was met by astonishingly gray-blue eyes. They were nothing like I'd ever seen before. That was when I got a good look at my new roommate. This girl's skin was pale a porcelain, complimented by her straight hair that was… What did they call it? Strawberry blonde? Yeah, that was it. Her face and clothes were smudged with dirt from being thrown around by Rumlow and the other HYDRA agents, and her gray eyes were wide and muddled with terror and confusion. I didn't blame her.

Then, her pinkish lip opened. "You…" she muttered softly, her words almost gasps. "You're the Winter Soldier."

Part of me wanted to tell her that wasn't my name, but I didn't even know what my real name was. The Winter Soldier, that was all I was ever referred to as. So, unable to tell her my real name, I just stood there, staring at her. The more I looked at her, the more I noticed about her. She was beautiful, probably one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, but not in a drop-dead-gorgeous sort of way. Her nose as a bit too narrow, her cheeks a bit too full for the rest of her face, her lips were too full as well. Her bottom lip was also splitting, I noted, probably from Rumlow's treatment while he was trying to abduct her.

The only thing that pulled me out of staring at her was her frightened words. "Oh my God," she said. She looked like she was hit with a pillowcase full of bricks. "_I'm standing in the middle of a HYDRA base_."

I watched as her entire body began to shake. She looked like she was ready to fall over, maybe even faint. I cautiously moved towards her as her hand gripped the edge of one of the twin beds, I assume in an effort to keep herself standing.

"Don't," she said, raising her hand at me, signaling me to stop advancing towards her. "I just need a minute."

I wasn't buying that. Not for a second. I knew what her words translated to: I think you're a crazy, psychopath killer, and I don't want you coming a step closer to me. It caused a pang to my heart which I chose to ignore, so I slunk away from her and lowered myself silently onto one of the beds. She did the same, sinking onto the opposite mattress, running her fingers through her hair over and over while taking deep breaths. I could practically hear her heart beating a million miles a minute.

I kept watching her. She was much different than the others. I couldn't quite pinpoint it, but I knew she was unique. She seemed to be smarter, handling the situation better than the others had, but at the same time, she seemed to unbelievably broken. She just looked… fragile. I was still trying to decipher all of her when she lifted her head again, my eyes locked with hers once more.

"What?" she said gently. I could tell that she as trying to look so strong, but she sounded so broken. Almost like me. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at her. "You're different than the others," I found myself saying. The girl raised both eyebrows at my observation. Apparently, she hadn't known that she wasn't the first. Then again, how could she? It wasn't like Rumlow decided to tell the whole HYDRA story before he tossed her in here like an animal.

"Others?" she asked softly. "What others?" She looked almost sickened by the idea of it all. I didn't blame her. "You mean, they took other people before me?"

I just nodded at her. "Two," I said. Then my eyes grazed her up and down. I couldn't tell if they were all abducted from the same place or not. "You're the third one in a month," I added. "The other two didn't last more than a week."

That was when her rosy cheeks paled. I felt a pang of sadness for her, but at the same time she needed to know what she was up against. HYDRA didn't give people second chances. You lived or you died. Those were the only two options.

"What did they do to me?" she asked. Her scared words made my stomach knot, but it was what she said next that made me sick to my stomach. "What are they gonna do to me?"

I wanted to help her. I wanted to answer her question, but there was really no way to decipher all the things HYDRA could to do her. Kill her, beat her… Or worse. My eyes locked with hers, and I had to fight back the painful memories that dwelled inside as I answered her, "They kidnapped you," I said, forcing myself to be strong. "Took you hostage. You're not the first, and, I imagine, not the last."

She shuddered at my words. "What do they want with me?" she said.

I instantly felt all my muscles tense. "They want you to fix me," I said. That was the entire reason they'd started abducting people in the first place. I'd been getting my memories back, and obviously, that wasn't pleasing to them. At first, it had been little things, like places and street signs. But the memories were flowing more freely now, and I began to recognize faces but not names. They continued their attempts to wipe my memoires, but their previous methods no longer worked, so they needed something else.

"And if I don't?" the girl asked, pulling me out of my dark thoughts of HYDRA. "What happens if I refuse? What happens if I try to escape rather than work for them?"

She didn't know it, but her words sent wicked memories flowing through my mind. I'd tried to escape here many times once I began to get my memories back. It only ended in black eyes, flying bullets, and bloody wounds. I tore my gaze away from hers, not wanting this new girl to see how broken and damaged HYDRA will make her. I lifted myself from the bed, and looked down at her.

"Then you die," I said simply. "Or worse."

I chose to leave it at that. Without another word, I pulled the curtain back on my bed, concealing myself from her. I lay down on the bed and attempted to fall back to sleep, but I found myself unable. My ears were perked, listening for any sounds she might make, if she would murmur to herself, if she would cry. But she didn't. She was silent. My gut twisted again for her. I understood what kind of situation she was in, because I was in the same predicament myself.

We were both completely and utterly alone.

**So I decided to change it up a bit and do the last chapter, but from Bucky's point of view. If you liked it, please let me know, because then I'll do it more often. If you didn't like it, my apologies. Anyway… I hope I portrayed Bucky well enough! I wanted him to be kind of sarcastic but at the same time still get across how sad and broken he was. I promise, it'll get happier as time goes on! Thanks to all of you who favorited/followed/reviewed, I appreciate it so much, please continue to do so! Hope y'all liked it, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**Punkrocker1439- Thanks so much! I was debating over it for a while, but I finally decided to just go for it.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Ella:**

I wasn't really aware when I fell asleep, but somehow I had. My eyes snapped open the next morning, and I found myself curled up into a ball on the ungodly uncomfortable mattress. At first, fear spread through my body like wildfire. I couldn't recognize any of my surroundings. And then I remembered the details—I was in a HYDRA base, captured and alone, with a mental soldier who's killed more people than I have bones in my body.

Not exactly the best way to wake up. And what was to come next wasn't too pleasant, either.

I heard a creak in the floorboard, and then the Winter Soldier's gruff voice. "Good," he said. "You're awake."

I snapped into an upright position almost immediately. The solider stood at the opposite end of the room, drying his damp hair with a towel. Clearly, he had just emerged from the shower.

"There's a shower in here?" I asked. Those were my first words to him that morning, and he clearly didn't appreciate that. He tossed the wet towel onto his bed.

"Good morning to you, too," he said dryly. "Yes, there's a shower in here. It's not much, and the water doesn't like to heat up, but at least it's running water." He ran a hand through his hair, and I assumed that was him combing it for the day. It was highly unlikely HYDRA would be kind enough to give us hairbrushes.

His cool blue eyes snapped over to me, and I immediately averted mine to the ground. I didn't want to make eye contact with this killer, seeing as the warning of my abductor still ran through my mind—_he angers easily_. Every time I thought about it, a chill went up my spine.

"What time is it?" I asked, carefully choosing my words as I peered at him through my eyelashes. The very last thing I wanted to do was start my day by pissing him off. But he didn't seem to give my words much mind—it was only a simple question, after all. He plopped himself onto his bed, and answered my question with a shrug.

"I don't know," he said. "They don't give us clocks here. Not even a cheap wristwatch."

My eyes widened. "You don't even know what time it is? You don't get a clock?" I asked, completely horrified. "Not even a window?"

He turned towards me then. He nodded to the wall, which my bed was pushed up against, motioning to a certain spot where the bricks seemed fresher than the others. "That used to be a window," he explained. "Until I tried to escape out of it."

That must've been quite the feat. Judging from the bricks, the window must have been relatively small, maybe thirty inches across and eight inches down. It would've been a squeeze for a bird to escape through at window. It would've taken a miracle for a man, a super soldier, to escape through it.

"How did that turn out?" I asked before I could stop myself. The Winter Soldier gave a short, dark chuckle, like there was some darker joke inside the story that I couldn't possibly hope to understand.

"Well, I'm still in here, aren't I?" he asked, eyes flickering over to me. "Long story short, Rumlow and the others came in before I could try and tear the sides of the window open so I squeeze my whole body through." His eyes lowered. "It didn't end well." He let out a gruff kind of a sigh. "I didn't try to escape again after that."

My eyes lowered, too. "Oh," I said quietly. A bit of silence fell between us that was more than awkward. It was eerie. The only sounds were hushed voices passing by and heavy footsteps making their way down the hallway. I prayed that none of the HYDRA agents decided to stop in here.

"So what do you do?" I asked suddenly, breaking the silence between us. The Winter Soldier's eyes turned to me. He was looking at me like I had three heads. He seemed just as surprised as I was about my sudden question.

"Pardon?" he said. His voice was deadpan. I swallowed hard.

"What do you do in here all day?" I asked again, proud that my voice sounded stronger than before. "When you're trapped in here."

His eyes flickered over me, like he was trying to decide what on earth would possess me to ask that kind of question. Then his eyes turned to the heavy door before us, his expression blank. "Well, there are some books over there," he motioned to a dusty corner that I hadn't noticed until now, where books were sprawled in cluttered piles over the floor. "But there's nothing worthwhile. It's basically just you and your thoughts in here. Daydreaming, thinking, planning… _remembering_," the last word seemed to be harder for him to say. "That's basically all you can do in here."

My eyes studied him carefully. "Do you think about escaping a lot?" I asked. He nodded almost instantly.

"All the time," he sighed. "But at the same time, I've kind of given up hope. The only way you get out of here is through a body bag."

To say his words took me by surprise was an understatement. I tried to open my mouth to say something in response, but all that came out was a squeak of air. The only thing I was really capable of doing was staring at him with a horrified expression. HYRDRA was far worse than S.H.I.E.L.D. could have ever imagined.

The Winter Soldier seemed to sense my shock, and decided to change the subject. "What's your name?" he asked, turning his cerulean gaze to me again.

That took a moment for me to register. Was this cold, calculating killer really asking so formally for my name? He raised both eyebrows, as if to repeat the question again. "Um," I began. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your name," he said again, swinging his legs over the bed, sitting straight across from me. "You do have one, don't you?"

"Um, yeah," I said, still trying to get over the initial shock that he was suddenly having a casual conversation with me. "It's Celastine. Celastine Barton," I said. "But everybody just calls me Ella."

He thought for a moment, and I could've sworn a saw a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ella," said the Winter Soldier slowly, seeming to like the way my name rolled off his tongue. "It suits you."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thanks," I said awkwardly. "What about you? What's your name?"

Apparently, that was the wrong question to ask. Immediately, all his muscles tensed. "What?" he asked, his voice icy. I bit my lip. _Bad move, Ella. Very, very bad move._

"Never mind," I said quickly, scared how he could go from being so normal to so intimidating in a matter of seconds. "It was a stupid question—" I didn't get the chance to finish before he cut me off.

"I don't know what my name is, alright?" he barked shortly. "I haven't known for the past twenty-three years."

_Well, that was something you didn't hear every day. _"What?" I asked in disbelief. "Why? You said you were getting your memories back."

"Not that memory," he hissed. "Whatever those bastards did to me after all these years is keeping that from coming back. Among other things," he added quietly.

His words were so pained, so distraught, it pierced my heart. "Oh," I said, my words practically silent. I ran a hand through my hair awkwardly. I was about to apologize when the heavy metal door burst open without warning. That was when everything really went downhill.

Three HYDRA agents entered the room, clothed in black clothes and heavy boots. Knives and guns were strapped to their belts. The Winter Soldier immediately tensed again, but it was different than when I had asked him a sensitive question. This time, he was poised to kill, like a wild animal backed into a corner. The three HYDRA agents took note of that, and only laughed in response. They seemed to know him better than I thought.

"Relax, old man," one of them said, chuckling darkly, though there was nothing funny about the situation. "We're not here for you. We're here to see the latest toy."

Toy? _Toy?!_ That was really what they viewed me as? My question was answered as their gaze turned to me, hungry and interested. I didn't know whether I wanted to fall into a black hole or punch them all in the nuts.

"This is the newest one?" one of them asked, coming over to me. He snatched my face in a vice-like grip, causing me to gasp in pain. He didn't even notice. "She's a beauty, Rumlow! Where'd you find her?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. parking lot, actually," the last one, Rumlow, replied. I recognized him immediately as my abductor. I gritted my teeth just looking at him.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. parking lot," the one holding my face repeated in a breathy, awed sort of tone, his grip on my jaw tightening. "That was the last place I would've looked," he remarked. He released my jaw only to twist his fist into my hair. He yanked me upwards, and I cried out in pain, to which the three HYDRA agents only laughed.

"Look at this, boys," the agent said as I struggled against him, my hands desperately trying to claw his out from my hair. I felt like he was going to rip my scalp off. "Slender body, nice curves, full breasts…" his voice lowered lustfully at the last part. It made me sick to my stomach.

"She'll be more fun than the other ones," the other HYDRA agent replied. I swallowed hard. I knew exactly what they were referring to.

Rumlow stepped forward, eyes sweeping up and down my body. "No doubt about that," he said. "But we have to let missy here," he stroked my cheek with the pad of his thumb, and I fought the urge to flinch away from his touch. "Start her job with the soldier first. Then we can have our way with her. But," he shot a warning glance to each of the other agents. "I get to have her first. I found her, after all," he said, eyeing me like I was some sort of trophy. I could feel the fire building inside of me.

"_You're sick_," I spat. "You're all sick, twisted bastards. All of you are goddamn—"

I didn't get the chance to finish my insult. The man Rumlow delivered a well-aimed punch to my face. I screamed in response, white-hot pain surging into my lip. No doubt he'd split it open again.

"Leave. Her._ Alone,_" a dark, menacing voice growled. It took me a moment to realize that it was the Winter Soldier, standing behind Rumlow, fists clenched at his sides. I was terrified, but the three agents seemed unfazed.

Without a word, Rumlow turned and slashed the Winter Soldier across the chest. He had unsheathed his knife so fast, I hadn't even noticed it. The soldier stumbled back several steps, his hands clutching his bloodied chest.

"Trying to be good now, huh? Trying to be chivalrous and protect the new girl?" Rumlow asked, kicking the soldier in the stomach. He snatched his throat before the soldier could recover, cracking his head into the brick wall; it made a sickening sound. Rumlow had the soldier pressed against the wall in a matter of seconds, cutting off his oxygen, his knife gleaming at the soldier's throat. "You listen to me," he growled sinisterly. "_You are_ _not_ _the good guy_. You kill people. You wipe out entire families. You've killed girls just like her, and you'll do it again if I tell you to. You do not protect, you destroy. Understand?"

But the Winter Soldier didn't answer. He didn't even so much as nod. Instead, he stared blankly at Rumlow, eyes cold and unreadable. That was exactly the wrong thing to do. In a flash, Rumlow had sliced down the soldier's torso again, one last time for emphasis.

I cried out as another line of blood came weeping from the soldier's chest. Rumlow turned his gaze to me, his knife flashing dangerously. "You want her?" Rumlow barked to the soldier. "Take her."

The man holding me then threw me to the ground roughly. Every muscle in my body groaned in pain, a dull fire coursing through them. My brain screamed for me to get up, to show these men the self-defense Clint had taught me over the years, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. So I lay on the dirt floor, curled into a ball, knowing that as long as I stayed motionless they would let me live.

"Now you listen, girl," Rumlow growled from above me. "You'd better start to fix him. I want to know what's wrong with him by the next time I come back in here. And if you refuse, you'll have a lot more than a split lip to worry about."

He didn't give me a chance to respond before he placed a solid kick to my stomach. I whimpered in pain, clutching my bruising abdomen. I heard the other two men laugh lowly, before their heavy footsteps went out the door. I only knew they were truly gone when the heavy bolt on the other side of the door slammed shut.

"_Shit_," I murmured, one arm wrapping around my aching stomach, the other clutching my throbbing head. It felt like every nerve in my body was crying out in pain. "That absolute _bastard_…" I murmured, slowly bringing myself to my feet. Moving even a single muscle felt like a struggle.

That was when my eyes found the Winter Soldier, crumbled on the ground against the wall. _Oh, God._ I went over to him as quickly as my bruising muscles would allow. He practically jumped out of his skin I placed my hands on his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" I asked, brushing the bloodied hair away from his face. He glanced up, and was met by something I never would've expected—the concerned, pain-filled eyes of the Winter Soldier.

"Yeah," he said, his voice shaky. I wasn't convinced, and he knew it. "There's nothing they can do to hurt me anymore," he said. "I'll be fine, believe me."

I shook my head. "I'll be the judge of that," I said, fixing my gaze on his splitting torso. It wasn't as bad as I'd originally thought. The knife hadn't sliced as deep as I thought it had. His wounds wouldn't require stitches, which was good; perhaps just a bit of gauze and rest would do the trick.

"You're bleeding," the soldier noted, pulling me out of my thoughts. He was glancing at my splitting lip. I nodded, gently brining my fingertips to my lips. There was more blood than I'd expected.

"Don't worry about me," I said. "Your chest is worse. They don't need stitching, thank God, but they do need to be bandaged. You'll definitely get an infection in this environment if we don't do anything about it," I said, eyes flickering to the dirt floor beneath us.

"Right," he said, his eyes on the ground as well. "There should be something in the bathroom. It won't be much, but I guess it's better than nothing." He brushed me aside and slowly started to get to his feet. I could tell he was fighting back a wince, jaw clenched tightly.

"Let me help," I offered, my hands on his metal arm as I attempted to help him to his feet. He flinched away from me, but I didn't let go of his arm as I slowly helped him into the bathroom. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, those cool blue eyes boring into me. I chose to ignore his staring.

"Sit here," I said, motioning to the edge of the bathtub. He complied, and I could still feel his eyes on me as I turned to rummage through the small medicine cabinet. He was right—there wasn't much. A bit of disinfectant, a package of Band-Aids, and a fair amount of stitches was all that I could find. There was gauze, too, but it would only be barely enough to cover his wounds.

I turned back to the soldier, gauze in hand, and began to patch up his wounds. They weren't the worst I'd seen. Clint had far worse a couple of months ago, and the wounds had been all over his back.

_Clint_. I felt a pang of sadness as I thought of my brother. The last time I patched up someone, it had been him, and it had been only a day ago. It seemed like forever. I wanted him more than anyone right now. He was my big brother, my rock, my protector. If he even knew half of the things these HYDRA agents had done to me, he would kill them faster than they could say, "Nick Fury's eye patch."

I sighed deeply. But my brother wasn't here. It was just me, trapped in this hell of a room. Just me and this bi-polar assassin, and I couldn't tell for the life of me if he hated me, wanted to kill me, or wanted to help me.

My eyes flickered up to the soldier-assassin, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts as I patched him up. Carefully, I cleared my throat. "For what it's worth," I said softly. "Thank you. For not letting those men hurt me too badly."

The soldier glanced down at me, shocked, as I wrapped the last bit of gauze around his torso. He looked like no one had ever told him 'thank you' in his life.

"You're… welcome," he said slowly, his response sounding more like a question than anything. It was like the words had never left his lips before. I nodded slowly, and turned to put the gauze back in the cabinet.

I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about this soldier-assassin. I was horribly, horribly terrified of him and the things he had done, but at the same time, there was something about him that was so completely _broken_. He had been alone for so long, abused and neglected to the point that he had almost lost the will to live. But at the same time, there was a sort of dying fire inside him, and I knew he wasn't going to die without putting up a fight. He was strange and highly confusing, but either way one thing was for sure—he wasn't going to let anything happen to me.

Or so I hoped.

**Wow, it's been a little while since I added to this story. Sorry about that! I usually have an outline of where I want my stories to go, but this one I'm kind of just writing what comes to me when it comes to me. So if I don't update for a little while, blame the muses! Lol, so I hoped y'all liked this chapter. I wanted to kind of give Bucky/Winter Soldier and Ella a bit of bonding time, but not too much that it seemed to rushed/weird/romantic. Did you like it? Let me know! Thanks to all those who favorite/review/follow, I really do appreciate it so much, please continue to do so! Thanks for reading, until next time!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews…**

**Punkrocker4139—Thanks! And I agree with your point, he should remain a bit of a mystery. I think if I do it too much, the story will lose something. I do want to do more chapters from Bucky's POV though, but only the really vital ones so it keeps it fresh and interesting, you know? And I'm glad you enjoyed his POV chapter, it took me so long to try and get his personality right!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Ella:**

If I had to guess how much time had passed since I had patched up the soldier as well as my bloodied lip, I would say about two days. However, in reality, it had probably been no more than a couple of hours. The soldier's injuries hadn't needed stitches, but I couldn't say the same for my lip. It had taken anywhere from three to five stitches for me to fix the damage on my lip that the HYDRA agent Rumlow had caused. And if that wasn't enough, the bastard had bloodied my shirt.

"Dammit," I murmured under my breath, drying my hair as I made my way over to my bed. "This blood is _never_ going to come out of my shirt."

I slung the towel over the headboard to dry, and raked my fingers through my hair several times, allowing me to pull it back into a ponytail. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the Winter Soldier, who was sprawled on his bed, absentmindedly flipping through a book. I knew he wasn't really taking the words in. There was no need; he'd probably read it over a hundred times by now.

"What are you going on about?" he asked, his voice flat. His eyes flickered up at me, and I averted my gaze.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm just complaining about the blood on my shirt. There's no way it'll come out, and I don't really fancy the idea of sitting in it for however long I'm going to be in here."

The soldier nodded, his eyes going back to his book. "There's a bin under your bed," he told me. "It's not full of clothes, but there should be some things you'll be able to wear."

I raised an eyebrow. It surprised me that HYDRA would keep a bin of clothes under the bed for the next girl they abduct. Seemed a little too hospitable for them.

But the soldier had been correct. I dropped to my knees, and pulled out a bin of clothing from underneath the bed. I let out a scoff as I opened the bin. "HYDRA really keeps a pile of clothes for people they abduct?" I said, pulling out a soft looking sweater.

"Not exactly," the soldier said flatly as he turned the page of his book. "Those clothes are from the other girls they abducted. The ones they killed." He said the words as nonchalantly as he would if he was ordering lunch.

A knot immediately formed in my throat. The sweater in my hands belonged to a dead girl, one that had formerly been in the exact position I was. I didn't know what to do in this predicament—continue to wear my bloodstained shirt, or wear the clothes of a girl who was deceased?

I knew I had no choice. I turned my back to the soldier and, with shaky hands, pulled my bloody shirt over my head. I quickly yanked on the emerald green sweater after, not wanting to expose too much of myself to the soldier. I could feel his eyes on me, anyway.

I tossed my shirt into the bin, not sure where else to put it, before kicking the pile of clothing back under the bed. The sweater I was wearing was warm and fleecy, and reminded me of one I'd stolen from Natasha a while back. That made it easier for me to wear, as opposed to the painful reality that it belonged to someone who was dead. I fought the urge to shudder, and decided to turn my attention elsewhere.

"Alright," I said, turning to the soldier. "Book down. We've got work to do."

The soldier raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?" he said as he set the book down.

"Work," I repeated. "You told me you've been getting your memories back, and that they want me to fix you because of it." I patted the table that was set out in one of the corners of the room. "Come on," I urged. "We have to get this done."

The Winter Soldier didn't look pleased, but proceeded to reluctantly rise from his bed. With a flat expression on his face, he did as I asked, and sat on the table. "Happy now?" he said gruffly. I nodded.

"You're going to have to look at me, though," I said. "I need to check your eyes."

"My eyes?" he asked as picked up a tiny flashlight I'd found deep within the medicine cabinet. I nodded again.

"These chemicals they've been using on you," I began to explain as I clicked on the flashlight. "I need to know how badly they're effecting your brain. The quickest way for me to tell is by looking at your eyes."

The soldier huffed in response, muttering something under his breath. Still, he turned his eyes to me, and allowed me to examine his eyes. I placed my hand under his chin, shining the light into each of his eyes.

Normally, I would've bitten my lip, but decided against it due to the stitches. "Well," I said, placing the small flashlight onto the table. "I have good news and bad news. Which one first?"

The soldier sighed. "I suppose good, then bad," he said. "Might as well get my hopes up first."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're a bit of a pessimist, aren't you?" I found myself saying.

The soldier shrugged. "Evidently."

I sighed. "Well, the good news is that you'll be getting your memories back," I said. "Bad news is, I don't know how badly those chemicals screwed up your brain."

The Winter Soldier's brows furrowed. "I don't understand," he said. "What do you mean, 'screwed up my brain?'"

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain," I said. "It's like this: if you have a certain device, like a computer or a phone or something, it needs power, right?" I didn't wait for this response. "If you keep adding more and more power to the same size phone, there's only so much it can take before—boom!" I made an explosive gesture with my hands. "It short-circuits."

"So," the soldier began. "You're basically saying that my brain's gonna explode?"

I shook my head. "Not quite," I said. "It's just…" I searched for the right word. "Malfunctioning. All these different chemicals are being administered so quickly that they're beginning to contradict each other. It's too much for your brain to handle, so the chemicals themselves begin to malfunction. And when that happens, they do exactly the opposite of what they're supposed to, meaning that if they gave you something to wipe your memory, you're now going to gain your memories back."

The soldier looked baffled. "Oh," he said quietly. "You can tell all that just by looking at my eyes?" he asked. I nodded.

"You're lucky no one from HYDRA's figured that out yet," I said. "If they had… Well, I'm not exactly sure where you'd be right now. The chemicals have altered your brain too much for them to make a clean slate, so I'm not sure what they'd do."

"They would've killed me," he said, his tone low and stripped of emotion. "If they find out about it now, they'll kill me."

"No. They won't," I assured him. "When the memories come back, just act like it never happened. Simple, really."

Apparently, those words struck a nerve. His eyes locked with mine, his cool cerulean blue meeting my gray-blue. "Never say that," he growled. "Nothing is simple here."

He slid off the table with the grace of a panther, and slunk by me without a word. I didn't know what about my words set him off. He stalked away from me, muscles rippling, clearly wanting to take his anger out on something. _This guy was a ticking time bomb._ I swallowed hard, opening my lips slowly, trying to find the words to right what I'd said. "Look, I'm sorry, I—"

"Just go to sleep," the Winter Soldier said icily. "You did your job for today."

"But—"

"_Go to sleep_," the soldier repeated, rounding on me, blue eyes flashing coldly. "I need to stay up. I need to think…"

Once I saw that look in his eyes, he didn't have to tell me twice. That look was cold, threatening, and made me wonder what happened to the man who, only hours before, protected me from sick perverts who wanted to rape and abuse me. I didn't understand how he could go from protective to assassin so quickly.

Either way, I slunk into my bed, my eyes on him the entire time. He was pacing around the room, clenching and unclenching his fists, running his hands through his hair desperately. I wondered what he could possibly be thinking about.

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to drift off to sleep. But the Winter Soldier continued to pace, muttering to himself every now and then. Sometimes, he'd even let out a strangled cry of frustration. To say I didn't get much sleep that night is an understatement.

* * *

><p>I awoke the that heavy metal door being slammed open. My response was to immediately cry out, which I did, the sound reverberating around the room. I was sitting upright in my bed in an instant, and was met by the sight of five HYDRA agents infiltrating my room.<p>

"What the hell is going on?" I asked. They ignored me completely, going over to the Winter Soldier without so much as a second glance at me. Before he could even raise an arm to defend himself, one of the agents brought the butt of their gun down on his face. He crumbled to the ground immediately.

"No!" I cried, and launched myself at the unconscious soldier. Two of the agents caught my arms in a firm grip before I even came close to the soldier. "What are you doing?" I cried in horror. "Leave him alone!"

"Shut up, girl!" one of them shouted, giving me a good punch to the stomach for emphasis. I gasped, fighting the urge to cry out in pain, knowing that the sound of my suffering would only be pleasing to them.

"Why…" I said, my voice no more than a breath. "Why are you doing this…"

I watched helplessly through pained eyes as two of the men latched onto the Winter Soldier's shoulders, dragging his body out of the room. Only then did one of the men, I assumed he was the ringleader of this little group, turn to me.

"He tried to protect you earlier yesterday," he said, his voice smooth and frigid. "It was uncalled for. He nearly attacked Agent Rumlow, and for that he needs to be disciplined."

"Will you wipe his memory?" I asked, scared for the answer. The man's mouth twitched into a smile, one that sent frightened shivers curling up my spine.

"Of course not," the man said. "We want him to remember his torture."

With that, he nodded to the two other men. In a swift motion, they threw me backwards onto my bed. The force of the action was so strong that I ended up hitting my head on the brick wall behind me. I shouted out in pain, and before I could try and lunge at the agents again, the door slammed shut behind them.

I sat there, horrified, staring at the door as if it were a monster that had just spawned from hell. I wanted to cry, scream, and rip my hair out all at the same time. The Winter Soldier had protected me, shielded me from harm, and now they might kill him for it.

The only sound in the empty room was my heavy breathing. It was beyond eerie. I felt the tears prickling my eyes. I wanted Clint. I wanted Natasha. I wanted to go home. But, more than anything, I didn't want to be alone in this room.

**Well, I've been gone for a little while, sorry about that! I had school, and now I'm addicted to the show Supernatural so I've been just binge watching every season. Oops. Anyway, I hope y'all aren't too mad at my cliffhanger! Lol, I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I possible. And by as soon as possible I mean as soon as I can pry myself away from Supernatural. Anyway, thanks to all those who read/reviewed/favorited/followed, I really appreciate it, and please continue to do so! Alright, until next time! Love y'all!**

**-Charlotte**

**In response to reviews...**

**Snow Shadow 17-Thank you so much! I'm so glad you like it.:)**

**hemp609-Ah! I'm sorry! I'll update more as soon as possible!**


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